


The risks we take

by Horns of Mischief (Rinelin)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Blood, FrostIron - Freeform, Gore, M/M, Mention of torture, Thor is a dick, Violence, bastardization of mythology, so is Odin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinelin/pseuds/Horns%20of%20Mischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding something good in the worst situation possible is one of Loki’s greatest traits, but even he didn’t expect to find a certain brilliant being stashed deep under the black soil in the gloomy caves of Svartálfheimr. Trying to free him, while at the same time foiling dwarven plans to impress Odin, would require all the finesse and deceitfulness of a true trickster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The risks we take

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I would like to thank my awesome betas: [Agentromvnoff](http://agentromvnoff.tumblr.com) and [Usedupshiver](http://usedupshiver.tumblr.com)  
> You are both the best! ♥  
> And here is the link to the art by [enkanowen](http://enkanowen.tumblr.com): [[link]](http://enkanowen.tumblr.com/post/101066431478/art-for-horns-of-mischiefs-fabulous)
> 
> There are some thing I would like to clarify first concerning races and names from the mythology.  
> In the MCU Svartálfheimr is considered the Realm of the dark elves, but in the Prose Edda Snorri Sturluson mentions it also as the world of the dwarves, yet in the Völuspá it is called [Niðavellir](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ni%C3%B0avellir). To avoid confusion I came to the conclusion that dark elves lived on the surface and the dwarves under it and named their biggest city (or if you want the capital city) Niðavellir.  
> The dwarves are referred to as [Svartálfar](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Svart%C3%A1lfar), the dark elves as [Dökkálfar](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%B6kk%C3%A1lfar_and_Lj%C3%B3s%C3%A1lfar) (svartálfr/ dökkálfr is a singular form).

In retrospect, Loki mussed, the prank wasn't really that funny. Well, at first it was. When he imagined what his brother's expression would look like after learning about Loki's newest deed, but it ended ugly for the younger of the siblings. Apparently Thor didn't find cutting off Sif's hair as hilarious as the God of Mischief did. The thunderer stomped through the palace, rage radiating of him like heat from a furnace, shouting profanities and demanding for Loki to _come out from the rat hole he crawled into_. When he finally managed to corner the trickster, his face was darker than any thunder cloud Loki had ever seen.

'You will fix this,' Thor spat, shaking with fury. 'You will fix this or so All–Father help me I will break both of your arms!'

Loki couldn't see what the big fuss was all about. It was only hair, it’s not like it wouldn't grow back. He wanted to tell that to Thor, but one look into his burning eyes told him that he would probably end up with a broken jaw, so the trickster bit his tongue and only nodded briefly. The thunderer looked at him with disgust and shoved him away, the force of the push making the younger god collide with one of the grand columns supporting the high ceiling of Valaskjálf.

'You have a fortnight to fix what you have destroyed,' Thor growled and left without another glance back.

Loki slid down the column and hid his face in his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh hysterically or cry.

 

It took him over four days to go through every spell book in the palace he could put his hands on, but none of them provided the answers he needed. If he was desperate enough he could always try and invent a specialized enchantment for hair growth, but it would probably end dreadfully for Loki if the hair would start to grow not only on Sif's head, but all over her body. For the trickster it would be hilarious to watch the dismay on the warrior maiden's face, but he assumed that Thor would be of a different opinion, probably involving his huge battle ax and the younger god's mutilated body.

No, it was a bad idea and Loki was rather fond of his body. He had to think of something else, maybe enchanted thread or cord? He would have to consult an artisan for it, not being particularly skilled in that area himself.

Loki looked out the window and was startled by the darkness outside. The light of the day had faded many hours ago and instead a myriad of stars shone brightly on the night sky forming distant constellations. One of the moons had risen already, but its thin waning body barely managed to provide any light at all.

The trickster sighed, he had managed to waste yet another day on this fruitless search for the appropriate spell no one thought to invent. He closed the big, old and moldy tome he’d snatched from the All–Father's private library, with a loud thud. It was no use, he really had to get outside help, but his pride throbbed at the mere thought of having to admit defeat and placate himself in front of someone else to get some hints of how to revert this disaster.

The god groaned, straightening up in the chair. His back and legs were stiff from not moving for many, many hours and his muscles started to sting like they’d been touched by a young storm giant, when the blood flow had returned properly. There was no use searching further tonight, he was sure there wouldn’t be anything of relevance in that tome. He needed some sleep, he'd been studying the spell books almost without a break for the past few days.

Loki stood up and stretched. His head pounded mercilessly and his eyes hurt from the artificial lamp light. The trickster picked up an unfinished wedge of cheese from a meal a servant brought him Norns only know how many hours ago and bit into it. It was a bit dry after lying on the tray for a better part of the day, but Loki was so famished he barely noticed. After finishing his miniscule supper he chugged down a whole goblet of lukewarm wine and shuffled wobbly in the general direction of his bed chamber. Tomorrow he would search for some master artisan to consult on the problem, but now there wasn't anything more important than his bed and the warm, black fur that covered it.

~

The heat in the grand smithy was almost unbearable. Loki always disliked high temperatures, preferring the cool air of an early Asgardian spring. Now he stood under one of the mighty bellows connected to the forge, sweating as if he just finished one of Thor's infernal sparing sessions. His usually neatly combed back hair started to twist into waves from all the steam the two smiths produced during their work. Loki observed as they pounded pieces of metal with their mighty hammers then dipped the future weapon in cold water to temper it further. The trickster wondered, his eyes attentively skipping between the two Svartálfar, if the work he had for them wasn't beyond their capabilities. He couldn't waste more time though, he had merely a few days left before Thor would come to deliver his punishment.

The raven haired god grimaced, wiping at his sweaty brow with a forearm. The thunderer was always so righteous, so noble when it came to interacting with the court. But in his chambers or in the company of the Warriors Three the charm evaporated somewhere and he became a brute, laughing loudly and drinking mead to unconsciousness. It was distasteful and disgusting how sometimes Loki found his brother in some claustrophobic and dirty tavern, unconscious from the copious amounts of alcohol he always managed to pour into his stomach, or worse: conscious and clingy like a tavern wench after sniffing out a heavy pouch on her client. But it was always Loki who behaved shamefully, the dark younger prince, who studied magic and used tricks in battle like a maiden and not a warrior. Who'd rather avoid crippling wounds instead of exposing his chest to later boast what a great battle scar he acquired.

Loki just huffed with indignation, he could never understand that.

 

In the meantime, when the trickster's thoughts swam in the dark waters of loathing and jealousy the dwarves finished their work and finally noticed the prince's arrival.

'My friends!' Loki exclaimed when they stepped closer, a wide smile plastered to his thin lips. It wasn't insincere, the As genuinely liked the dwarves. They could care less about his reputation as long as he stayed fair towards them. They never judged him based on rumors and overheard accusations, but on the skill he showed working the anvil.

'What brings you here today trickster?' Boomed the elder of the brothers, extending an arm to greet his guest. Loki shook it heartily, genuinely pleased to be there.

'I know how much you value your time my friend,' the god started, 'so let's forego pleasantries and get straight to the point.' When the smith nodded in agreement Loki continued.

'I have been given a task to accomplish, but regretfully I am not skilled enough with the hammer to do so. So I thought to myself: _whose hands can create wonders no god or mortal had ever seen?_ And as if by magic your name appeared in my mind! So here I am begging for you to employ your skillful hands and create a wonder all the Aesir would be dying to possess!' Loki finished with a flourish. He knew the Svartálfar artisans were always praise hungry and easily swayed by fame and glory. He needed for them to work as best as they could to recreate what he destroyed. It was his neck on the line!

'Your silver tongue speaks the truth!' The dwarf laughed. 'We are indeed the greatest! Now tell me, what is it that you seek?'

And so Loki recounted his antics with lady Sif's golden locks and mentioned Thor's wrath briefly which managed to elicit a hearty bellow from the underground folk. They shared a few tankards of ale and laughed loud and long before Loki finally got to articulate his request.

'So you see my friend I need you to make me a golden thread so light and thin as if it was the most delicate silk. You've surely heard of lady Sif's glorious golden mane, I require an even more beautiful result!'

The older brother of the two dwarves belched obscenely, almost making the trickster throw up the contents of his own belly. Yes, Loki mussed, that is one of the reasons there are so few dwarves at court, their manners are not quite on par with the noble Aesir sensibilities.

'This is not a trivial task Sky–traveler, if we were to accept what are you going to offer us in return?'

Loki just smiled brightly at him. The first task was complete, he managed to light a spark of interest in the artisan's head. Now he had to just fan it into a true fire.

'Well more work of course!' the trickster beamed at his listeners. The dwarves frowned and exchanged confused glances between themselves, so Loki hurried to explain.

'I assume that by now every noble As knows about my misdeed. They surely await my return to see me come back empty–handed and disgraced, but what would be their astonishment if I would to come back baring the miracles of your hammers. I would tell them then: _Look oh noble Aesir and Asiniur what splendid craft I bring before you! Look how it shines brighter than fire as if the master artisans managed to capture rays of the sun itself and bend them to their will! Marvel at the exquisite work performed by the most talented of dwarves!_ '

The god glanced at the two dwarves sitting before him confident that his words swayed them in his favor. With a bit of flattery he managed to not only convince them to perform at the best of their skill for him, but also entirely for free. Now was the time to finish the deal.

'They would flock to you like bees to honey demanding your skill to be used for their pleasure and they would bury you under a mountain of gold just to get a scrap of metal from your forge!'

Yes, Loki thought to himself keenly observing the Svartálfar broad faces, they were his.

The older of the two brothers grunted burying a hand in his long dark beard, apparently thinking. After a tense moment he looked straight into the trickster's emerald eyes and asked.

'And you are certain the noble Aesir would be impressed?'

'Of course,' Loki shrugged, the old matrons would be jealous of Sif's new shiny tresses. With a bit of luck and an accurately whispered word it could even become a new fashion among the high–born. 'If you wish, you could craft other gifts and bring them before the All–Father.'

The dwarf nodded absentmindedly, plotting in his head the best designs to impress the gods.

'Leave us now trickster. We shall be ready for your return in three days.'

'Excellent,' Loki stood up and smiled widely extending a hand to the dwarf, 'we have a deal!'

~

His footsteps echoed through the silver hall of Valaskjálf as Loki confidently strutted towards the high seat of Odin the All–Father. The galleries and the intricately carved floor underneath them were teaming with Aesir keen to witness his humiliation, but Loki was confident. His visit to the dwarven workshop earlier today left him in an excellent mood. The task he left for the artisans was completed flawlessly and he even managed to acquire some additional gifts.

Approaching the throne Loki spotted his older brother looming over the high seat, his face twisted with discontent. Next to him stood the Lady Sif, head clad in ornate shawl. As he neared the dais his grin grew wider and he had to suppress an urge to wink at the brooding pair. Instead he bowed to the monarch on the throne with a flourish, meadow–green cape billowing behind him as if a nimble air nymph spelled it just to impress the spectators.

'I bid you a great day All–Father,' Loki spoke straightening from the bow. A quick assessment of the old god's features told him that there was only a little room for small talk. Odin was not pleased and it was written clearly on his face. The trickster sighed internally, he always liked a good show, but the public here was rather stiff.

'Lady Sif if you please,' he extended an arm towards her and after a moment of hesitation the woman cautiously moved in his direction, wary of another trick. Finally she passed the offered hand and planted her feet squarely in front of him.

'Off with that!' Loki gestured towards the colorful shawl adorning the warrior maiden's head and shoulders. Sif looked him in the eye and angrily tugged at the fabric unwinding it. When the cover was gone the gathered crowd started murmuring amongst themselves. The woman's cheeks bloomed scarlet and she demanded.

'On with the show trickster!'

Without further ado Loki made a complicated gesture with his hands (purely for better effect, he could produce the same effect with a flick of a wrist) and pulled out a golden bundle seemingly from thin air. He then threw it over the lady and it cascaded in long golden locks all over her head and shoulders. Light from three dozen grand windows illuminated the thin, soft threads (with a little help from another quickly cast spell) and Loki could hear awed gasps and outright shouts of surprise all around him.

'This, my noble friends, is just a taste of what my dwarven associates are capable off!' Loki lifted his voice for a more dramatic effect and proceeded to proclaim peons of praise to the dwarven crafts just like he promised them to.

'Now feast your eyes on what I am about to show you!' He then waved his hand one more time and magicked a mighty spear from one of his pocket dimensions. It was of a very slick design, carved with runes of protection and good aim, the tip sharper than any other blade in this hall. It gleamed golden in Loki's nimble hands when he stepped closer to the throne, the spear resting in his arms in an offering for the old god.

'It is a gift for you Odin All–Father, a weapon that never misses its mark, fit for a king.'

The gallows god slowly lifted himself from the seat, his one–eyed gaze completely concentrated on his younger son. Loki waited for what felt like eternity bowed before the king, his hands outstretched bearing the heavy offering. Then finally when the trickster was about to withdraw his rejected gift Odin took it and swung the sharp edge right over Loki's head.

'It is a mighty weapon indeed,' the All–Father proclaimed studying the runes carved unto the shaft. 'I am pleased.'

The young prince nodded and made a few steps back outside of Odin's newly acquired toy’s reach. 'It is called Gungnir my lord, the one that never misses. But my noble Aesir and Asyniur that is not all! I have another great gift, this one for my lord Freyr,' Loki stepped down from the dais and presented the ruler of Vanir a tiny ship carved from light oak wood, intricately made. The Vanr frowned at him at a loss to what to do with a toy like that, pretty as it was.

Loki just smiled knowingly placing the gift on Freyr's outstretched hands.

'Skíðblaðnir they named it, a ship made from so many parts that one can fold it and put it in one's pocket! A marvel like no other! The greatest of ships!' Loki exclaimed over the raised voices of the gathered crowd. Everyone wanted to see this tiny boat that could with a well–placed thought become a mighty drakkar. The trickster once again moved away from the commotion and just observed from the shadows how the other gods marveled over his gifts. Suddenly a heavy hand seized his shoulder in a strong grip.

'You are lucky to avoid punishment Loki,' Thor growled coming from behind one of the many columns supporting high vaults of Valaskjálf. Lady Sif trailed a step behind him, the beautiful tresses once again her pride and joy.

'Your silver tongue helped you greatly today.'

'Ah brother it is not luck, but skill, mine and the greatest of the dwarves!' The trickster chuckled freeing himself from the steel grip.

'I beg to differ,' a voice called from behind them and long–bearded dwarf stepped forward, his face grim.

'What?' Loki asked perplexed as a bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

'You speak untruths Lie–smith. There are far better craftsmen that the Ivaldi brothers you so highly praise.'

'Oh excuse me my friend,' the trickster beamed his best false smile at the dwarf, 'your name must have skipped my mind.'

'I am Brokkr!' the Svartálfr bellowed, 'and I say that my brother Sindri is a better artisan than both Ivaldi brothers combined!'

'All empty words my short friend, I too could claim such fable, but no one would believe me without proof,' Loki spread his arms wide, a new mischievous plan growing in his nimble mind. Meanwhile the gods lured by the commotion started gathering all around them. 'Proof! This is what we need! So I challenge you. Bring us three mighty gifts and the noble crowd gathered in this hall will decide if what you claim is true. Otherwise you will leave disgraced.'

Loki smiled thinly. This situation has escalated in his favor and instead of two gifts for the high and mighty he would have five! 'You shall be granted seven sunrises to complete this fit and on the eighth you will present your work before the court.'

The dwarf nodded sagely acquiescing to the terms, but before the trickster could spout another lie he added:

'But what will you bet Lie–smith? What will you give us when the gods proclaim us the better craftsmen?'

A ringing silence fell over the Aesir, everyone was looking at Loki, to see how he would extricate himself from this situation. The young prince frowned weighting his options, then he smiled brightly and exclaimed for all to hear.

'My head!'

The gathered crowd exploded with excited shouts. The bet was on and in a week from now they would have a show.

'Then you should start searching for a new one, because this one is as good as ours,' Brokkr smiled a crooked smile, his yellow teeth flashing from under the thick tuft of his mustache.

Loki matched him with his own sharp grin.

'We shall see master dwarf, we shall see.'

~

The corridors gently curved downwards leading them away from the surface. The walls were carved with geometric figures that overlapped themselves creating a bigger, more complicated design. Sometimes the dwarf and the god passed entrances to other corridors, some of them dark, others brightly lit with gas lamps hanging from the low ceiling. There were also those closed shut and guarded by complex wards.

Loki looked around with interest. They were in the less commonly used corridors further away from Niðavellir – the underground city of the Dwarves. Only mines and workshops were located this far down under the surface, where the most valuable secrets and treasures were hidden away and guarded jealously by the stocky, heavy armored sentries. He had never visited here before so memorizing the way out was a priority of sorts.

From time to time they encountered other workers along their way down, hurrying in both directions, minding their own business, and Loki would nod in greeting as they passed by; most nodded back.

After a better part of an hour of constantly going down in spirals, Brokkr finally stopped in front of a large, double–winged metal door.

'This is our smithy Sky–traveler,' he gestured towards the doors, 'you are welcome to stay and observe our work, you cannot however touch any of our tools and crafts without permission. You are also prohibited from venturing outside without a proper escort. We will provide you with a room and consider a guest until our allotted time to complete the gifts is over.'

The dwarf pushed the enormous doors open and they moved smoothly on the hinges without as much a tiny squeak. The first thing Loki noticed upon crossing the threshold was the heat which he absolutely loathed, his skin almost instantly becoming clammy; the second was a man, at first glance older then the god, but not more than a few centuries, his face dirty with oil and hair greasy. When he noticed them entering he paused in his task of dragging a heavy sack of coals (and leaving dirty smudges all over the floor) and shot Loki a curious glance that intrigued the trickster, because there was something else in it he couldn't yet put a finger on.

'Stark! What by the tangled beard of the Oldest are you doing?!' Brokkr growled eyeing the soot stains.

The man straightened his back with a groan and Loki's keen eyes rested on his chest where a circle of light shone brightly through his thin shirt. Maybe this trip won't be a waste of his time after all, the trickster thought pondering the shining object.

'What you told me to, you wanted the furnace hot, remember?' This... Stark replied in a deep, pleasant voice, his curious eyes constantly fleeting to Loki.

'That was hours ago you imbecile! Get out of my sight and prepare a room for our guest,' the dwarf hissed.

'And who might that be?' The god asked, sincerely interested when the man vanished from his sight.

'Just a stray we took in,' Brokkr waved a hand as if it was a matter of no importance; it wasn't for Loki. 'His father left him here so he could learn the craft, but he's not very bright. Please don't concern yourself with him, he's primarily a servant, my prince. Now let me show you our armory and smithy. I am sure that Sindri is to be found there,' the dwarf clapped his hands and graced Loki with an insincere smile. The trickster nodded gracefully in agreement, but his mind was busy solving the riddle of the man with a circle of light in his chest.

~

Hours later after being dragged over ten different smithies and armories Loki plopped down exhausted and overheated on his bed. Well the thing could barely qualify to be called a rock, let alone a bed. The trickster groaned into a thin, single pillow he was being given and slowly lifted himself up to examine the offending piece of furniture. Straw for the mattress filling! The prince made a face and concentrated on a transmutation spell. It was definitely an unnecessary use of Seiðr, but he would not sleep on this abomination; knowing his luck it was full of lice.

An unexpected knock on the door broke his concentration and Loki swore when the spell snapped and the backlash hit him straight in the solar plexus. Nothing serious, but the feeling wasn't really a pleasant one.

'Enter!' He shouted casting dark glances at the mattress. But his sour mood was instantly lifted when the intruder closed the door behind himself.

'I've brought you supper,' Stark nodded towards the tray he carried, filled with meats, a wedge of cheese, some dried fruits and a flagon of ale.

'Thank you,' Loki smiled invitingly.

The man looked around and spotted a low table, then quickly deposited his burden onto it and was ready to leave.

'A moment if you may,' the trickster waited for Stark to turn towards him and continued, 'I am curious, would you answer some questions for me?'

The man looked at him quizzically, yet not with the dumb expression Loki feared after Brokkr's explanation, but with a spark of intellect and a dose of poorly veiled eagerness; like it didn't happen often that someone wanted to talk to him.

'About what?' He asked, voice hesitant.

After a short assessment Loki decided that he was probably a Vanr, or a half–bread, because he was too tall and lean to be a dwarf, but too short to be an As. He wore a beard like all dwarves, but short and neatly trimmed. Loki liked the color of his eyes. When all Aesir had generally blue, green or sometimes brown eyes, Stark's were almost golden like amber or mead – a unique trait.

'Your teachers.'

When the man frowned Loki clarified, a weird suspicion waking in his mind, 'Brokkr told me they took you in to teach you the craft, is this not true?'

Stark barked out a short, forced laugh.

'He would say that, wouldn't he? Apprentice sounds way better than a fucking slave.'

'A slave?'

'Yeah, they would teach me shit, it was always Stark bring me this, Stark bring me that, man the flame Stark, sweep the floor, clean up the mess we've made! I had to learn everything from scratch myself,' the Vanr started pacing frustrated, it didn't even register that he was complaining to a total stranger he didn't even know the name off, and one who as far as he knew could rat out on him to the dwarves. But he was just so incensed, Loki noticed, and so company – that would listen – starved that it didn't matter.

'Since my fuck up of a father left me here, they showed me nothing,' Stark continued more and more agitated, he was starting to almost hyperventilate as the word vomit continued. Loki stood up and seized him by the arm.

'Stop and breath slowly,' he ordered keeping a steady grip on Stark's biceps.

The Vanr looked at him with wide eyes suddenly aware that his outburst could earn him a severe beating.

'I... Fuck I...' he stuttered at a loss of words.

The god studied his startled face with a serious expression. This man fascinated him and he couldn't even tell why yet. He felt an urge to know him better; the completion of the gifts to the gods suddenly stopped being so important.

Loki placed his left palm on Stark's face, thumb caressing his jaw, just like Thor always did to him, and said.

'Now, start from the beginning, but slower. First tell me your name, mine is Loki Odinson.'

He was still being looked at with wide golden eyes when realization finally hit Stark and his chin went slack under the trickster's hand.

'The prince of Asgard?'

He stumbled away from Loki and his back hit the wall.

'Oh fuck.'

'So your name...?'

'Uh yeah I'm Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, the Nine Realms' worst parent.'

'Yes, you mentioned that he left you here.'

'He fucking sold me,' Tony growled enraged again. 'For a few scraps of knowledge and some Uru he left me here without even looking back! And I've been stuck here since! I don't even know how many years...'

'STARK!' A mighty bellow interrupted his tirade.

'Fuck,' the Vanr swore under his breath looking towards the door. 'I have to go. It was nice knowing you, erm my prince.'

'Tony,' Loki started suddenly unsure what he wanted to say, his famous silver tongue turned to led. This man captivated him, he was different from all the Aesir he knew, fierce and beautiful. The god was mesmerized by his expressive golden eyes and deep voice. He needed to know him more. 'Come back when you finish your duties.'

'Why?' Stark asked looking at him with suspicion.

_And why indeed?_

'I wish to converse more, our... gracious hosts are rather a dull lot.'

'Yeah,' the Vanr snorted, 'I'll be back later then.'

'I will be waiting,' Loki smiled.

Tony took one last appraising glance at the god and flashed a thin smile before the doors closed behind him.

~

It was hard to estimate time in this place, Loki discovered. Without any windows and natural light it could as easily be midnight as midday. The dwarves used to this way of living generally didn't have that problem (their quarters and the grand smithy were equipped with water clocks). Loki had to be more creative; he summoned a small mirror, the length of his forearm and set it flat on the night stand next to his bed. It was enchanted to reflect a part of what the grand floor–to–ceiling mirror in his chambers reflected, thus providing a window of sorts to his rooms through which he could with a bit of strain measure the time.

When Stark came the next day carrying his breakfast he almost dropped the tray upon noticing the soft morning light illuminating the wall above the mirror.

'What is that?' He breathed still clutching Loki's breakfast.

'A magical mirror,' the god teased thinking the Vanr wasn't familiar with magic other than some basic enchantments done to the metal.

Stark though waved him off exasperated as he looked mesmerized at the square of light.

'I haven't seen sunlight in years,' he whispered reverently touching the mirror's surface with one hand and balancing the tray with the other. The trickster bristled at that, even the lowest servants in the palace had a day off to do whatever they pleased. He then looked closer at the man and indeed his skin had this earthly color from working close to the fire, but it wasn't golden–brown like he assumed at first.

'Aren't you allowed to go out?' Loki asked feeling a spark of anger growing in his chest when Tony just shrugged.

'I am not even allowed to talk to you, those bastards are scared I could say too much.'

'Oh? I would very much like to hear what you have to say then,' Loki patted the bed next to him indicating for Stark to sit down, because there was no other chairs in the room, just a chest for clothes under one of the walls. Yesterday after Stark was called by Brokkr, Loki managed to transmutate the straw into a fine goose down so the mattress was now soft and comfortable. Really those dwarves were supposed to be great artisans, but they couldn't manage to furnish their home with functional and comfortable things.

'You would be the first,' Stark mumbled lowering the tray between them and cautiously sitting down. His eyebrows almost met with his hairline when he sank into the soft mattress eliciting a chuckle from Loki.

'A few redesigns were in order to make this cave at least habitable,' the trickster shrugged grabbing a dried plum and biting into it.

'Yeah, tell me about it.'

'You said you can't go outside, why exactly? Wouldn't it be better for them to send you on errands?'

The god offered to share his candied fruits with Stark, but the man refused, instead he looked around as if anticipating Brokkr suddenly bursting from the chest to yell at him. He was hesitant to answer.

'If you wish,' Loki furrowed his brow studying the man's hounded behavior, 'I can cast a spell to let us know if someone is approaching.'

'Uh no, there is no need. I just still have trouble processing that there is someone willing to talk to me, usually I just babble at my bot, but he's not very talkative, he just likes to stare at the wall when I rant...' Stark grimaced. 'Yeah sorry, enough wallowing in self–pity, you asked why I can't get out of here. It's because of this,' Tony gestured towards the circle of light in his chest. Loki looked closer at it, he could feel some Seiðr emanating from it, but he couldn't tell what it was supposed to do.

'What is its purpose?' He asked perplexed.

'It keeps me alive,' Tony stated matter of fact.

Loki looked him in the eye searching for any kind of jest, but there was none, Stark was totally serious. The god lifted his hand to touch, but stopped mere millimeters in front of Stark's chest.

'I don't understand.'

'About a year after my father had brought me here I managed to devise a plan of escape, but they somehow got the wind of it. So Sindri built an automaton that was supposed to guard me, but it had a shitty design and I found a fault that could shut it down. That's when the things went south. The thing exploded in my face and I was left with a cluster of shrapnel lodged too close to my heart to remove it. So my caretakers came up with a brilliant idea to put this in my chest,' Tony lifted his shirt and Loki's eyes widened. The man's breast was marred with horrendous scars and in the middle there was a metal ring embodied into his flesh. An orange–red light shone from within the ring.

'There's a magnetic plate inside keeping the metal fragments in place, so they wouldn't enter my heart and cut it into ribbons.'

Tony's voice was flat, wrung from any emotions, but his eyes burned with rage hot as coals in the furnace. 'And the fun part is that the homing stone for the enchantment, that's the ugly light by the way, sits in Sindri's smithy, where I have practically no chance of stealing it, because the thing is huge!' Stark hit the mattress with a fist making the contents of the tray rattle. He managed to calm himself after a few deep breaths and chuckled darkly lowering his shirt to cover the gaping hole in his chest.

'You probably wonder why I'm telling you all this stuff. Well you see I overheard the idiots yesterday and I know what they are going to make for your bet, and you my prince are in trouble. So,' Tony breathed in once again, 'I have a proposition for you: bring me a catalyst able to contain the enchantment, a crystal, a gem, I don't care as long as it works and is portable and I will help you sabotage their work. What do you say hot stuff? You're in?'

Loki shot him a curious look; the Vanr was more intelligent and cunning than he previously assumed. The trickster inside him was shouting to accept the deal, but there was one more matter to clarify.

'It is not an easy task to find a stone so small and pure able to contain such powerful enchantment.'

'I need to be free of the homing stone the dwarves possess if I am to attempt to run away again. Without transferring it into something I can carry with myself, I won’t be able to go far,' Tony shrugged.

'And you can do that? Transfer the enchantment that is?' Loki liked the man more and more by the second, he was full of surprises.

'Yup, those morons think that I'm only good at making weapons so they never shooed me away when they did it over the items I made for them. I managed to learn a few things,' Tony smiled sharply, dangerously.

'Very well then,' Loki protruded his hand for the Vanr to shake, 'we have a deal.'

~

Stark had to leave soon after. The dwarves, now busy with preparations concerning the first gift, dumped all of their commissions on him. Apparently Tony was an accomplished smith himself, well versed in the secrets of the craft. He excelled in making small deadly projectiles, throwing knives mostly and something he called bullets. They supposedly went into a special device which could shoot them out with immense speed, a design he was still working on. The explanation he gave the god reminded Loki of something he once read about; the dark elves that his grandfather Bor defeated eons ago in a glorious battle were rumored to use weapons similar to what Tony had in mind. Utilizing a complicated mechanism of pistons and pressured air, the weapon could spit out a swarm of small projectiles followed by a hot wave of air enabling the creatures to obliterate groups of opponents in an instant. But after Bor's victory almost all records concerning the Dökkálfar were destroyed along with their culture and inventions, so there was no way to be sure exactly how similar the ideas were. Not to mention that Loki had other, more pressing concerns.

The dwarven brothers had finally decided what their first gift would be and the trickster had to devise a plan to prevent them from finishing the work— or at least sabotage it somehow. It was Tony's job to get the intel on what it was supposed to be exactly and then bring the news to the magician, but the time was ticking away and the Vanr had not returned yet.

At some point Loki started pacing the small room restlessly. Was their blooming partnership discovered so quickly? And if not, what then by Odin's beard had happened to Tony? The god huffed out an annoyed sigh and bit his lower lip thinking.

He could not wait any longer, with or without the information he had to do something. Making another small circle from the bed to the door and back he mercilessly discarded idea after idea. Setting fire to the empty rooms nearby was too dangerous, the conflagration could spread beyond his control, even kill them all and it wasn't a risk Loki was willing to take. Any sort of disturbance caused by his person could be read as an act of sabotage and the dwarves could then demand compensation. No, he could not show himself in the smithy... or he could, but just as an observer.

The trickster made a series of complicated gestures and an exact copy of himself materialized in the room. He walked around it to confirm there weren't any flaws and when he made a full circle and looked it in the face the copy was smirking mischievously back at him.

'They won't even know the difference,' Loki beamed at his twin and made another complicated series of gestures shape–shifting into an enormous horse–fly. The clone opened the door and let out the now shifted trickster into the corridor.

Operating a body so different from his own wasn't easy so Loki had to concentrate really hard to not fly into anything. The fly's eyes were so confusing to look through it took the god a great amount of time to get used to the fragmented canvas and to top it all, the insect was really shortsighted. The mage cursed internally after colliding hard with a glass embodied into one of the doors. He couldn't fly safely in those conditions, the interior was to dimly lit. So he cautiously landed on a support beam and concentrated instead on the copy still waiting in the room. He wasn't yet that experienced in using clones having just learned the spell not long ago, so for the clone to do anything it had to be entirely controlled by the caster. After mastering the skill and a lot of practice Loki was positive he would be able to make the clones work autonomously, but for now no such luck.

The duplicate finally reached him and cautiously opened the door to the smithy just wide enough to peer inside and let the Loki–fly in. Through the clone's eyes he surveyed the interior. The brothers were both bent over a worktable arguing about something, an enormous carcass of what appeared to be a boar between them. Then Sindri lifted it and threw the animal into the furnace.

'You shall man the flame brother,' he clapped Brokkr's shoulder, 'and I’ll work on the boar!'

Loki took the opportunity and flew inside when both Svartálfar backs were turned away from the door and settled on one of many swords leaning against the wall. In the back of his small insectoid brain he registered an out of place sensation coming from the clone – a spark of happiness bubbling inside its chest. How was it relevant to the situation they found themselves in right now Loki couldn't tell until he focused on what the clone was looking at. There, at the far corner of the smithy was Stark hammering a piece of metal on an anvil, his muscles flexing deliciously from the strain each time the hammer went down. His face was smudged with traces of soot and a fine film of sweat shone all over his exposed fire–kissed skin. Loki could feel how the clone shivered and if his fly–self had had eyebrows he would have lifted one. That was not a reaction he expected his double to have, but he could not inspect it further now as Sindri moved away from the furnace and vanished in an adjoined room. The horse–fly trickster swiftly flew down from his perch and made a wide circle around the older dwarf trying to decide where to land. After a second round not wanting to waste any more time he aimed at Brokkr's hand and upon landing, swiftly started stinging it. The smith shouted with pain and tried to shake the insect off without stopping his work. Loki in the meantime tried very hard not to fall off and continued biting.

Sindri burst back to the smithy alarmed by his brother's distressed shouts and the trickster had to let go so he wouldn't be discovered by the more magically inclined sibling. A second later the god's double joined the party supposedly lured by the ruckus.

'What ails you brother?' Sindri cried hurrying over.

Brokkr was panting and sweating profoundly, but to Loki's dismay he didn't let go of the bellows. His hand was swelling fast though and bleeding from the many puncture wounds the fly left on him.

'It is nothing,' he sighed.

'Has there been an accident?' The clone asked innocently, now having Loki's almost undivided attention. The trickster's ears registered that the hammer's clanking in the back of the forge had stopped. The double's eyes flickered over the silhouette coming closer towards them and settled again on the older dwarf's face.

'Nothing happened,' Brokkr grumbled. 'Is there something you need godling? You are disturbing our work,' the smith gestured with his head towards the furnace where Sindri was inspecting the boar. He lifted it from the flames and now gold glinted in its mane, the tusks and hooves shining with the ore. The animal almost tripled in size Loki observed looking into the beady and now definitely alive eyes.

'No,' the trickster gritted his teeth, the sour taste of failure stinging his tongue. 'I was merely searching for your servant, it has been hours since he brought me breakfast, I thought he might be slacking off somewhere.'

Tony shot him an annoyed look being now close enough to hear the conversation, but Loki didn't particularly care right now. He failed and his head hurt from maintaining the two difficult spells simultaneously. The horse–fly lazily trotted over the wall then spread its translucent wings and flew out the door with a soft buzz.

'He is working now, he will bring you dinner as soon as he finishes here.'

'That is an awful lot of disregard you treat your guests with,' Loki pointed out displeased, but the older brother just shrugged.

' No one is keeping you here trickster, you can leave whenever you want.'

'I'd rather not, I do not trust you,' the god said rotating on the heel and leaving the company behind.

Back in his room Loki shifted back and disposed of the clone. He was mad at himself for failing. He thrust his fist into the pillow with such force the sturdy bed frame groaned with protest.

One failure, two more tries to go.

~

Loki had to bend down to avoid colliding with the doorframe as he stepped into Stark's dwelling. It was a miserable hole, untidy, littered with metal scraps and tools. A narrow cot stood under once whited wall accompanied by an old chest haphazardly draped with dirty rags that might have been clothes in better days.

The trickster wrinkled his nose upon the sight; it reminded him of Thor's chambers, also untidy, with weapons and odd trinkets from his various adventures lying around everywhere.

The smith hadn’t noticed Loki yet so the mage used the opportunity to observe him at work. Tony was hunched over a desk, its top marred with black scorch marks. He was attempting to fit together two curiously shaped metal fragments, but couldn't – from what Loki could understand from the Vanr's mumbling he must have cut them wrong so now they did not match. Finally frustrated he threw them on the desk with such force that they bounced back from the wooden surface and tumbled to the floor; one rolled under the bed, the other towards the god.

'Dammit!' Tony cursed startled when his eyes landed on Loki. 'Don't scare me like that!'

'It wasn't my intention,' the As shrugged bending down to pick up the piece of metal. 'What are you working on now?'

'Ah! I told you about it. It's the device that shoots bullets; I don't have a name for it yet. I've built one before, but it was too bulky and big, so I want to make this one smaller so it could fit in a pocket!' Tony gesticulated excitedly. Loki liked the passion that burned in those bright eyes. They were of kindred minds, both fascinated with knowledge and the need to know how the world worked. It was a pity that Stark was stuck in this worm hole instead exploring the world.

Taking the metal part from Loki's fingers the inventor rolled from his improvised seat onto his knees and thrust a hand under the bed trying to fish out the second piece thus exposing the trickster to a glorious view of his nicely shaped ass.

'You wanted something?' Tony grunted stretching even more to reach deeper under the cot baring himself further to the god's very interested gaze.

'Yes, I've brought you the catalyst you requested.'

Tony bumped his head on the bedframe trying to hastily extract himself from under it, the metal fragment forgotten.

'Show me!'

Loki smiled observing how the inventor's pupils dilated when his eyes landed on the green stone the god presented to him.

It was a big gem, almost twice the size of his fist polished to perfection and glinting with multiple hues in the lamp light.

'It is a malachite, highly prized by healers, sometimes called the stone of transformation. It possesses protective abilities and also filters negative energies surrounding the owner.'

Tony traced a finger over the smooth surface mesmerized by the viridian color almost perfectly matching Loki's eyes.

'Beautiful isn't it?'

'Yes...' the smith breathed studying the darker lines separating the green ones.

It was the key to his freedom, a way out to leave this place and never return.

A strong feeling rushed over Tony and made him lightheaded, he could get out, he could finally get out!

'Take it,' Loki whispered and Stark obeyed cautiously lifting it from the god's palm to cradle it then against his own ruined chest. He could almost feel the stone vibrate with anticipation, or maybe it was him? Dazed Tony looked the trickster straight in the eyes, his face flushed prettily and open like Loki had never seen before, almost worshiping.

'Thank you,' Stark whispered sincerely, his hands clutching the gem to his chest as if it was his lifeline.

'Thank me after transferring the spell.'

'Right, yes, the enchantment. I'm gonna start working on that now!'

Tony carefully placed the stone on his bed between the blankets so it wouldn't fall to the floor and busied himself with preparations. He would have to find a bowl and some candles, a sharp object... so many things to remember about, there was no room for errors, if he were to fuck this up he would stay in this cave for the rest of his life.

~

Loki keenly observed the smith at work preparing the necessary tools. He wanted to make sure everything was in order and although he never performed such a spell himself, he knew how it was supposed to work.

Stark worked nimbly setting out a bowl and filling it with cold water. He fished a small leather pouch from his pocked, took a pinch of gray powder and threw it into the container stirring the water with a finger until the suspension dissolved. Next he lit a brown candle and reached for one of the many metal scraps littering the room.

'Stop!' Loki exclaimed startling Tony who managed to forget the trickster was even there.

'Use this instead,' the god took out a small, leaf–shaped throwing knife. Its surface shone with every color of the rainbow and the edge was razor sharp. Stark took it, their fingers brushing briefly, and looked the small piece of art over.

'It's cleansed, there is no need for a purifying ritual.'

'Thanks,' the smith peered into Loki's viridian eyes. He was anxious to begin yet so many things could go wrong, suddenly he wasn't so sure of his skill, one mistake and he could even die. On the other hand, he mussed, maybe it was preferable to the long, long years ahead of him in this slave pit.

He gripped the small dagger firmly and moved it over the candle three times so the flame could lick the blade and imbue it with power. With his left hand Tony picked the malachite and submerged it in the cold water. That done, he quickly pricked a finger with the dagger and let the blood flow over the gem murmuring the words he learned by overhearing the dwarves at work. Stark breathed in a lung full of air and blew the candle flame off releasing a fragrant aroma of pine resin. As anticipated, the water in the bowl boiled instantly and hissed spitting hot droplets all around. One even landed on Tony's cheek and he flinched, but stood his ground observing the stone. For a moment it glowed faintly green from within in the rhythm of the inventor's fluttering heart, then suddenly the perfectly polished surface cracked in the middle. Stark wailed and dropped to the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen! He did everything perfectly! Furious he struck the table sloshing the quickly cooling water all around its surface.

'Fuck!'

Loki quietly went around the smith and fished the cracked gem from the water to inspect it closer. It was mildly warm to the touch – all energy gone.

'It would seem,' he started thoughtful, 'that I miscalculated the strength of this enchantment of yours. It is more potent than I imagined. I must apologize, the fault is entirely mine.' The god smiled briefly taking in Tony's startled expression.

'Wha..?' Stark croaked looking with wide eyes at the trickster. What was he saying?

'Yes,' Loki mussed vanishing the gem up his sleeve,' next time I will bring you a more resilient one.'

'Next time?' Suddenly a heavy burden was lifted from Tony's racing heart.

'I'm quite curious, you see, to witness the result of this experiment.' The trickster smirked extending a hand for Stark to take. The smith accepted it, his head spinning from relief. There was still a chance for him.

~

They sat for a while in silence, Tony trying to calm himself after the fiasco, still having problems believing that it wasn't all over (usually his screw ups were very permanent) and Loki just leisurely looking around taking in Tony's few possessions. Then his eyes spotted something interesting and he stood up to investigate. The floor was littered with scraps of metal, leather stripes and broken fragments of armors and weapons, so Loki had to navigate carefully to a dark, faraway corner of the room where something big was hiding in the shadows. The god's fingers brushed lightly over the cluster of wires snaking its way around the form then moved up gathering dust along the way to settle on three pincers crowning the creation’s head.

'What it this?' He asked intrigued conjuring a golden spark to hover over his shoulder to dissipate the darkness and have a better look.

'Oh it's Dummy, sorry he can’t say hi, he's a mute.'

Loki glanced briefly over his shoulder at the inventor, then went back to studying his creation. It had a certain charm that made the god smile, he'd never seen anything like it before.

'Well okay he doesn't work, I never had a chance to get a power core for him, my caretakers aren't exactly the sharing lot,' Tony grimaced running a hand through his unruly hair.

Loki hummed then grabbed the bot and rolled it to the center of the room.

'What are you doing?' Stark jumped up alarmed. 'If Sindri sees me having even a small part of this he will have my head!'

The god just waved a hand and went around the sleeping robot.

'Where does the core go?'

Tony came closer and opened a panel in the back of Dummy's base. He motioned for Loki to look inside where a crystal sphere the size of a fist resided – it was dark and dead. The trickster squatted down next to the smith to take a closer look. He carefully disengaged the container and took it out turning it between his lithe fingers – thinking. Finally he smiled and standing up passed the crystal to Tony.

'I may have something that could work.'

Awed the smith watched Loki take out the cracked malachite.

'Close your eyes,' he ordered and when Tony did the trickster regarded the stone for a moment and then hauled it to the floor. The gem shattered scattering viridian fragments everywhere, but one gesture from the god and they obediently drifted back into his hand. Stark starred as Loki's hands ground against each other, sparkling dust running through his fingers like sand straight into the crystal sphere Tony was still clutching. The immortal murmured a few words the inventor couldn't recognize and when his hand opened six malachite marble balls lay on his palm. He dropped them into the core container, closed the lid and tapped the glass. Loki's eyes glowed an eerie green for a moment and then the device in Tony's hands hummed to life and lit up with the same otherworldly light. Speechless Stark watched Loki replace the core in Dummy. With bated breath he looked on as the bot vibrated, shook himself and then chirped in greeting extending his claw towards them both. Tears flew into Tony's eyes obscuring the view of his only friend in this dump, the one he talked every day to, without a shred of hope off ever getting a reply. And now he was whistling happily, glad to finally interact with his creator.

'Ah excellent,' Loki smiled brightly and Tony's gut clenched. He owed him so much already, there was no way he could ever repay this debt. When the trickster turned to him, a smile still lingering on his thin lips the inventor just couldn't resist. He grabbed a fistful of the god's black, silky locks and forced his head to bend down planting his lips onto Loki's and kissed him. Taken by surprise it took a moment for the immortal to respond, but when he did it brought forth a moan from the smith. They blindly stumbled back and fell onto the bed still lip locked. Tony grunted when Loki's considerable weight pressed him uncomfortably into the hard mattress and he worried for a brief moment if the bedframe wouldn't break, but he had a more pressing matter to take care of when Loki's tongue licked at the seam of his lips asking for entrance. Stark moaned again, his fingers tightening in the god's hair as he opened his mouth to let the trickster in to explore. Loki's skillful tongue ravaged him but Tony wasn't someone to let the other take the reins and just lay there pliant, instead he sucked on the intruding tongue then lightly bit it. Loki's eyes fluttered open shaded with long, dark lashes and a shudder went over his body making Tony smirk. When they finally disengaged for a much–needed breath of air, they were both flushed and winded.

'Well that was nice,' Tony breathed out a chuckle genuinely surprised that the god didn't just smack him over the head. Loki snorted and pecked the inventor lightly on the lips again.

'You are full of surprises.'

From behind them Dummy emitted a strangled whine and whirred closer poking his head in between them carefully snapping his pincers next to Tony's cheek.

'Hey buddy you want a kiss too?' The smith chuckled patting the bot's metal head.

They lingered for a moment enjoying the closeness disinclined to move when an angry shout sounded through the corridors outside.

'STARK!' Brokkr growled.

Tony grimaced and let Loki roll off him.

'I'll better go see what he wants,' he sighed shuffling to the door. When they closed with a loud bang the god covered his eyes with a hand.

'I hope I won't regret this.'

~

Tony had a plan, well it wasn't really a plan, just a general idea. He needed to help Loki somehow sabotage the Svartálfar work for all that the god did for him, Stark felt useless in return. So he watched as Sindri busied himself with preparations for the next item they were about to craft for the Aesir. His back was turned towards Stark, too preoccupied to pay any attention to him. The Vanr, keeping a close eye on the smith, took his chance and strolled to the grand, central forge and with a flick of his wrist dropped a fistful of salt into the water used for cooling metal. He then picked up some ore and went back to his work – smelting iron into small plates. With a watchful eye Tony observed the dwarf at the forge, how he worked the platinum on his workbench and mixed it with gold. Brokkr stood on the other side of the table minding the bellows to keep the coals burning hot. Sindri was almost finishing with his work and Stark watched on with bated breath forgetting about his own job completely until the iron rolling down from the smelter spilled onto the floor overflowing the form, hissing and spitting all over the Vanr's feet. Tony cursed silently as he stumbled back from the mess nicking his hip painfully on the edge of a bench. Quickly he moved the form and switched it with an empty one, dumping the contents back to the smelter to melt it again.

A shout of pain directed his attention back to the front of the forge where the brothers worked and he turned just in time to see Brokkr swatting a hand over his neck. The older smith swore, one handedly trying to kill the insect bothering him. Tony couldn't see what it was, but he was certain that it was Loki.

To his dismay though in the process of shooing the bug away Brokkr managed to overturn the bucket of salted water Tony prepared and it spilled all over the floor.

'Stark!' Sindri shouted, 'Bring me some fresh water this instant!'

Growling with frustration he fetched a new bucked and as slow as possible without raising any suspicion he went to refill it.

'NOW Stark!'

Meandering between a sea of stations and workbenches Tony cursed himself for using all the salt at once as he now didn't have even a pinch to spoil the water again. Eventually he reached the front of the forge and with a sour expression put the bucket on the floor. He watched, his jaw clenched with the feeling of uselessness, as Sindri submerged the finished ring and steam arose from the bucket. Tony turned to go back to his work when a large wasp landed on his shoulder. The Vanr flinched and was about to swat it away, but then he remembered that it was probably Loki. Stiffly Tony went back to his smelter, pissed off by his inability to do anything useful and with growing headache between his temples. They had only one chance left, if they would to fail it as well Loki was screwed and Tony with him.

~

Loki was pacing restlessly when Tony came to his small room few hours after their failed attempt to disturb the dwarves. He was pissed, Stark could tell from the set of his jaw and the jerky movements; it was a miracle that he wasn't growling like a caged wolf. The situation was bad, that was true, but not hopeless yet, they had one chance left, they should better start preparing.

'It is always like that,' the god hissed bypassing the smith. 'No matter what I do the result is a catastrophe. By the gods, the Norns really do despise me.'

Loki rounded the small room in a few long strides and went by Tony again, his green tunic musing the Vanr's arm. Stark grabbed him by the shoulder and held tight when the trickster struggled to get away. Hissing like a serpent Loki twisted in the smith's iron grip.

'Stop it,' Tony breathed studying the other's stormy eyes.

'Then let me go.'

'Getting pissed won't do you any good.'

The smith forced Loki to make a step back, then another, away from the door where they could be easily overheard. The trickster was shaking with suppressed rage, his expression dark and eyes shining with poisonous green light from within.

'Unhand me,' he demanded again and tried once more to pry his hand from Tony's hold. This time the Vanr let him free and unprepared, Loki stumbled and landed on the bed grabbing for Stark's shirt in the process and pulling him down too. They both groaned from the uncomfortable fall, limbs asunder. When Tony finally managed to lift himself up enough to look at the god, Loki was glaring daggers at him, his thin lips twisted with displeasure.

'You blundering oaf!' He spat, but it lacked venom.

'At your service,' Tony grunted, a shit–eating grin plastered on his face.

They stared at each other for an electrifying moment and then Loki's gaze shifted to the glow emanating from the Vanr's chest now visible through the hem of his shirt the god had managed to rip apart sometime during the short struggle. Tony's eyes followed and he frowned, it was one of his favorite shirts.

He didn't register when the god's hands snaked around his waist and pulled. The smith yelped and was left breathless when his back hit the mattress and Loki straddled his hips. Like a frightened rabbit staring a hunting hound in the maw, he looked at the trickster with wide eyes, uncertain if he was more scared or aroused (both, definitely both). The mage in the meantime was more concerned with removing Tony's tattered shirt from his pants, tugging at the ripped part until it came lose. Stark's breath hitched as the garment came undone and Loki tossed it to the side bending down towards him. And then Tony realized that the god was looking intensely at his sternum. Exhaling with a hiss, the Vanr threw his arms out onto the mattress strangely disappointed.

'What now?' He asked Loki, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of the soft fabric under his fingers, and the pleasant warm weight over his hips. His hands itched to run over the trickster's thighs and up under his tunic, but he lay still and obedient, fingers barely twitching.

'This,' Loki circled a cool finger around the metal rim of the casing embodied into Tony's chest and the Vanr couldn't suppress a shiver that went over his body.

'This intrigues me,' the god purred. A feral glint in his eyes told Tony that it was best to keep his mouth shut while Loki searched for something to distract himself with.

'It is a powerful enchantment, one I have never seen before. I want to know how it works.' His finger dipped into the cavity in Tony's chest and the smith's heart almost stopped for a moment – he was at the mad god's mercy, but the digit was stopped almost immediately by a force field protecting the glow inside. The mage hummed undeterred and lowered his ear to the smith's breast to listen to the hammering heart trying to beat its way out of Tony's ribcage. Oh wait, he was listening to the hum the enchantment sang with.

The god's silky hair was fanned out over his skin, making his nipples tingle and in turn, his groin stir to life. Thinking: _to Hel with it_ , Stark's hands slowly traveled over Loki's firm thighs and narrow hips, then up under the green tunic, fingers dipping into the path of the god's spine, feeling all the vertebra. A cool sigh fanned over his hot skin when his hands changed direction and moved back down to end on Loki's perfect ass. He could feel the trickster nuzzle his nose next to the metal rim followed by a soft kiss.

'I know better ways of revealing stress,' Tony smirked, trailing his fingers over the hem of the mage's leather breeches. 'Much more pleasurable.'

~

Tony woke up just in time to watch Loki vanish through his mirror which mysteriously grew in size and now stood against the wall. He blinked a few times disoriented, then shrugged and flopped back onto the very comfortable bed – Seiðrmen, who could understand how they operated.

He must have dozed off again, because the next time he opened his eyes Loki was back, sitting on the bed watching him.

'Hi,' Tony blushed slightly. He knew that his performance earlier was lacking, but to his defense he hadn't had sex in a long time. Loki on the other hand never complained, only smirked mischievously and worked him over again.

'Dress Stark,' the god ordered curtly, but then noticing how Tony's smile fell, he added more softly: 'We have work to do, I need to conduct an experiment.'

Buck ass naked Tony went to the small bath chamber to wash himself and when he finally emerged, hair still wet and dripping, Loki had almost finished setting down ingredients for the enchantment. The Vanr cocked a brow at the items displayed on the desk, the questions plain on his face.

'I have a theory I wish to test,' the mage explained, motioning for the man to come closer.

'What theory?'

'You will see. This time I want you to use this,' the god produced a translucent crystal from thin air and handed it to Tony.

'A quartz?'

'Yes, it has strong healing properties. This one is flawless, I had to trade some favors to obtain it. Now, I want to see how it will absorb the energies.'

'Right, okay.'

Tony sat down in front of the assembled ingredients identical to what he used for the first try. It felt kind of strange, but this was a chance he just couldn't pass by because of an unidentified feeling in his gut; so instead the smith straightened up his back and went to work.

The quartz broke almost as fast as the malachite...

'So what was that supposed to prove?' Stark asked bitterly, poking a chipped fragment of the crystal with his index finger.

'That precious stones are useless,' Loki answered mysteriously studying the Vanr.

'And what alternative is there?'

'This,' the trickster shoved a piece of dark–blue metal under Tony's nose.

'Is that titanium?' The smith asked eyeing the piece with his expert eyes.

'Yes.'

'You want to use metal for the enchantment?'

'Yes.'

'You know, metal is a shitty catalyst, the spell never sticks,' Tony sighed looking the cube over.

'If you enchant metal with metal, of course it wouldn’t, but you are attempting to transfer it onto the metal, it's not here to guide the spellwork, it's here to trap it.' Loki tapped the dark cube with a finger. He looked smug and when Tony's brain mulled over what it just heard his jaw dropped.

'I've been doing it all wrong. Fuck! Loki you're a genius!' He jumped up and kissed the god firmly on the lips with a loud smack. 'Let's try it!'

The mage shook his head.

'Not today, you already strained the connection. We need to wait for it to settle again so it won't snap.'

'Oh... damn. Tomorrow then.'

'Yes,' Loki smirked smugly.

~

His steps echoed through the vast halls housing the forge, mingling with the sound of metal being tempered. It was an enormous cave, but even with a state of the art ventilation system the air was almost too hot to breathe for the god. Loki slipped in between the shadows for a moment to observe the dwarves at work. The last day of the bet was almost upon them and there was no more room left for mistakes.

Emerging from his dark hiding space the god strode forward, slowly wandering between the workstations without a purpose other than to alleviate boredom. His hand glided over some unfinished projects, sometimes lifting a piece here or a cog there. The Svartálfar siblings watched his unhurried trek with wary eyes; Loki was a renowned trickster after all.

'You are faring well I presume?' The immortal asked rounding yet another workstation, this one overflowing with precious gems of every sort. The mage's voice sounded bored, but his eyes were alive, committing every available detail to memory: Sindri's ashen complexion even in the warm glow from the embers alight in the furnace, dark circles under his eyes and a displeased frown. Brokkr's openly hostile growl – his hand and neck were still swollen from the shifter's assault and the dwarves probably knew that it was Loki's doing, but without proof they were powerless.

'What do you want _argr_?' Brokkr snarled subtly trying to hide his injuries.

'Such harsh words! You better watch out master dwarf for what your mouth is spouting, it may cost you dearly in the future,' Loki smiled sharply baring all teeth, he would endure the slights, for now. 'I merely came to admire your work, but alas there is not much to see.'

The god eyed the bars of metal stacked under a bench next to Sindri.

'Iron?' he asked perplexed. 'Are you trying to insult my father by presenting him with such poor quality materials? Wouldn't it be simpler to just throw down the gauntlet and admit defeat? It would certainly save us a lot of time,' Loki shook his head disappointed. 'Uru is the metal meant to gift the gods! But I can't expect you lot to have the knowledge to work it properly, it is of utmost difficulty, that is true.'

He could see the anger boil inside Brokkr, his cheeks were bright red, hands fisted tightly. Loki smiled internally, _yes just like that, be mad, make mistakes_.

'No witty retort? Well then, let me leave you to your work, I wouldn't want to be accused off sabotaging your efforts, no matter how trivial they are.'

Muttered profanities followed him out of the forge and Loki couldn't suppress the grin anymore. The plan was falling into place.

~

Being woken up after only two hours of sleep or so wasn't Tony's favorite way to start the day. He grumbled, mind still adrift between a few last vestiges of a very pleasant dream, and somehow managed to roll off the hard bed onto equally hard floor. Brokkr stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest glaring daggers Tony's way.

'Move your lazy ass boy, there is much work to be done,' the Svartálfr ordered. 'I want to see you in the forge in five minutes.'

'Why?' Stark yawned.

'We want to start working on the hammer while the trickster still slumbers and you will be assisting. Do not presume we haven't noticed your clandestine trips to his quarters. Now move!'

 _Oh shit!_ Tony thought scrambling up to hastily put on some pants. They were supposed to have one more day to come up with a plan how to sabotage the dwarves and now it was too late. Moreover Loki was asleep, he wasn't even aware what was going on and Tony could only do so much to stall the brothers. Not to mention that they knew all along that he was visiting the As, what a disaster!  Stark tripped and almost fell following Brokkr, his mind conjuring new plots, evaluating them, and discarding one after the other. It was all over, they had failed.

~

Tony's arms ached. No, that was an understatement, they burned, muscles screaming with every move. The tendons of his fingers jumped and quivered, occasionally cramping painfully. He was sweating profoundly in such close proximity of the gigantic forge. He stood behind it away from the other two smiths who worked at the front, both busy shaping a great battle hammer. It was a slow and tedious process requiring utmost concentration; working with Uru wasn't an easy task.

Tony was still perplexed how they managed to obtain such amount of the precious metal this quickly.

'Boy, watch what you are doing!' Sindri shouted, startling Stark's boggled mind. 'More heat!'

He pushed on the bellows with a bit more force and his vision swam from exhaustion. They had been at it for hours without as much a second of break. He was thirsty beyond belief and his stomach growled almost constantly now. And there was still no sign of Loki. That worried Tony the most. The god should have been awake by now, so what was he doing that was more important than this?

Stark grunted when his hand slipped from the handle, it was too sweaty to maintain a proper grip and his palms were now full of blisters. The peripherals of his vision began to blur and narrow leaving blackness behind and slowly his body started to shut down when suddenly a blissful coldness spread all over his back. It was so unexpected that Tony's rhythm stuttered for a fraction of a second, but he managed to catch himself in time.

'You did well my clever smith,' Loki whispered into his ear and the god's cool lips left a trial of sweet, delicate kisses all over his flushed neck and jaw. Tony almost wept welcoming the trickster's ministration with great relief. Nimble fingers traced the contour of his ribs and slowly made their way down caressing sensually the patch of dark hair trailing from his navel. The Vanr shivered when they reached his cock and closed around it, the temperature difference between their bodies a shock to his overheated skin. Before Tony could moan out loud the mage's lips closed around his and swallowed the sound. It would've been no good if the dwarves were to notice the trickster's presence.

'Where have you been?' Tony whispered when their lips parted reveling in the blissful coldness Loki's body emanated, it somehow revitalized him and cleared his mind.

'I had some preparations to do, your caretakers managed to surprise me,' the god bit Stark's earlobe, his fingers still closed languidly around the smith's cock. It was definitely not the time for such pleasures, but Tony wasn't complaining. His body, now fully pressed against the trickster's, slowly relaxed. They stayed like that for a moment, closely entwined, Loki marking Tony's throat with love marks as the smith worked the bellows and kept an eye on the dwarves; they were so preoccupied with their work that they hadn't noticed a thing.

'So, what is the plan?' The Vanr asked finally, exposing his neck a little more for the god to lavish with attention.

'They are exhausted, just as you were. It will be easy for me to distract them and then it will be your turn to act,' Loki whispered straight into his ear eliciting a full body shudder from the inventor.

'My turn?' Tony stuttered.

'Yes. When the time is right, you will stop working long enough for the heat to die down just so to render it unusable. It shall be plenty to further our plans.'

'And how will you distract them?'

'The usual way,' Stark could just hear Loki smirk. 'Brace yourself,' the god warned and suddenly he was gone. The cool air surrounding them evaporated in an instant and Tony was almost floored by the unbearable heat. Then, an enormous hornet sat at the tip of his nose.

'Odin's beard!' The Vanr swore flinching away. 'Could you not?' He hissed looking cross–eyed at the god whose antennas were dancing – touching Tony's skin.

' _Shoo you!_ '

Spreading its translucent wings Loki fluttered away slow enough for the inventor to follow the flight patch with his gaze. When the first shout echoed through the entire forge he let go of the handles for a heartbeat, but it was enough for the flame to dim just a little.

A high–pitched keen followed soon after, and Tony briefly pitied Brokkr, who now trashed at the front of the smithy trying to do his job and failing. He attempted to strike the almost finished hammer, but his hand slipped and a part of the handle broke off and vanished somewhere in the shadows.

 _They made it!_ Tony realized watching Loki's small, but frightening body dance between the brothers. Sindri yowled with anger, but maintained his own pace. He managed to reform the handle, but it was too short to be comfortable to wield such a mighty war hammer. Satisfied the hornet disappeared in the shadows.

Relieved by their success Tony didn't notice Brokkr striding towards him with hands outstretched like harpy’s talons.

'You little...!' The Svartálfr spat closing his fingers around Tony's throat. 'You will regret that, you hear me!'

Wide eyed the Vanr struggled, but the dwarf's hands were too slippery from blood that also stained his brow for Tony to find any purchase to break the death grip.

'Now then,' a calm, amused voice interrupted them, 'I believe we have places to be. Let's not waste time on matters unimportant.'

'So eager to leave your accomplice behind demon?' Brokkr snarled with disgust, throwing Tony away with massive force. The inventor's back hit one of the workstations and with a groan he fell to the ground.

‘A mere tool he was, nothing more,’ the god shrugged uninterested, he didn’t as much as spare a glance Tony’s way.

‘Ready to lose your head then?’ The dwarf asked grinning in a nasty way. His eyes shone with malice.

'Ah! I am certain I won't.'

'We shall see.'

~

Tony was dragged to his room and locked tight. He couldn't believe Loki just left him there. _No way out_ his mind screamed as his exhausted and bruised body slid slowly to the floor. _No way out_ …

 _A toy_ , the god said, _a **tool** to further his goals_. He was a trickster after all, what did Tony expect?

A sob tore itself from his throat as the inventor finally crumbled to the cold ground, _outsmarted, defeated_. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, the situation was just too absurd, too surreal, but in the end it always came to that, didn't it? Everyone used him, exploited his talents and then got rid of him, one way or another.

Tony thumped the back of his head against the door. He was certain that if he were to check now Dummy's power core would be dead, it was probably another clever trick performed by the god to make him cooperate. Stark took a peek at the dark corner of the room where the bot usually stayed and his heart skipped a beat; it was _empty_.

'No, no, no, no, no!' The smith crawled on his bruised hands and knees, panic boiling in his chest like molten metal, threatening to spill over the brim. If something happened to him... 'Dummy!'

A loud knock on the other side of the door startled the Vanr, momentarily suppressing the imminent panic attack. Stark sprang to his feet, ready to fight or flee. When the sound echoed again through the empty corridors Tony looked around in search of some weapon. If the dwarves somehow came back for him... No, this time he won't be their obedient little slave, he'd rather die trying to escape.

The doors shuddered and the inventor could hear the heavy beam barricading the them being removed. He quickly grabbed the dagger Loki lent him when he tried to transfer the enchantment for the first time and plastered himself against the wall only an arm span from the entrance to his room and waited for the intruder to let himself in. The hinges moved silently and a thin ray of light appeared between the door and the frame. Tony waited with bated breath. Then a cheerful chirp greeted him and the smith's damaged heart almost went out from relief when Dummy poked his clawed head inside the room. Upon spotting his creator the bot chirped again and whirred in place happily.

Tony exhaled slowly.

'Hey buddy, you scared the shit out of me. Where have you been?'

The automaton whirred forward opening the doors further, carefully took hold of Tony's shirt with his pincers, then made a weird squeaky sound and gently started tugging on it indicating for the man to follow him out. Perplexed Stark moved without objection and soon they stood in front of Loki's room.

'You want me to go there? Why?' The Vanr asked, his brow furrowed.

Dummy just whistled impatiently and pushed him forward with his head.

'Okay, okay, I'm going. Pushy!'

The first thing he noticed was the mirror Loki used to illuminate the room, his makeshift clock as he once explained, now trice its normal size again, resting vertically against the wall. Tony peered through it and saw a spacious chamber, lavishly furnished, with dark furs lying on the floor near the mantelpiece and on the faraway bed. Delicate, translucent curtains swayed on the wind filtering in warm golden rays of an afternoon sun. So that was Loki's room, the Vanr mused. It looked beautiful with all the golden accents and green tapestries. This dump Tony stood in right now wasn't probably even good enough to be considered a storage room where the god lived. To his right Dummy whirred into the room and extended a claw towards the smith. A blank piece of paper dangled between his pincers.

'What is that?' Tony asked taking it. When his fingers touched the parchment words exploded on its surface written in Loki's neat handwriting.

 

 

 

 

> _Dear accomplice_
> 
> _You can be mad at me later, now you have work to do. If everything went according to my plan the forge should be deserted. Go there and search for any leftover piece of Uru. I am certain I managed to make the dwarves leave in a hurry and they weren’t able to clean the workshop of the precious metal. It is your key to freedom._
> 
> _On the other side of this note I included an instruction how to properly prepare the metal so the enchantment placed on it would be indestructible. Work carefully my clever smith, you have only this one chance._
> 
> _When you are ready to depart this wretched tomb simply step through the mirror, it is a portal that will take you to my chambers. To close the passage you will have to destroy the mirror in my rooms, we wouldn't want anyone to follow you through it._
> 
> _Loki_
> 
> _I made sure the portal is wide enough for your friend to pass through as well._

 

 

'That bastard,' Tony whispered awed, rereading the message. He couldn't stop smiling.

~

Loki hasn't been home for a handful of days, yet it felt like at least a century has passed. The dark, dank cave the Svartálfar inhabited was all but comfortable. The only bright side to the whole debacle happened to be the brilliant Tony Stark, a true diamond in the rough found in the darkest of the mines. They knew each other very briefly, but Loki took an instant liking to him. They were somehow similar, both sought out knowledge, albeit Stark in a much more limited way than the god, thanks to the circumstances he found himself in. But Loki worked hard to change that. With a bit of luck the smith should be finishing reforging the Uru by now, that done, the rest should be easy.

Loki smirked to himself, guiding the two Svartálfar through the palace’s busy corridors.

It was an early afternoon, the god noticed, bypassing one of the many arched windows open onto the grand vista adorned with gleaming, golden towers. He sighed, finally being able to once again admire the Realm's beautiful sky, where many constellations could be seen even during the day. Both day–stars were visible at this hour and the warm breeze smelled of his mother's favorite flowers. It was good to be _home_.

Loki's cape billowed like a war banner when he rounded yet another golden corner; the two dwarves trailing behind him were starting to feel the strain of the heavy burden they were carrying. The trickster intentionally took the longer, scenic route around the palace, wanting to have a little more fun at the siblings expense.

Loki was in a good mood, he even caught himself happily humming once or twice. This spectacle was only a formality – the gifts the dwarves produced were beautiful, but the god was sure it wouldn't be enough to convince Odin, his father was very hard to please, Loki knew that well.

Eventually the grand double doors to the great hall Valaskjálf appeared before them and Loki confidently pushed them open. As always the hall was brimming with activity: delegations from all Realms waited for their chance to have an audience with the All–Father, ambassadors and nobles mingled and plotted, smiling falsely at each other. The guards stood motionless in the shadows of the great columns, disregarded by the crowds, but never truly forgotten.

Loki strutted towards the throne where the mightiest god among gods resided, sometimes exchanging a greeting with people that were familiar to him.

He noticed that Thor was also present. It must have been one of those days when he was to quietly sit and observe father's rule. Oh how his brother abhorred those lessons, deeming them boring and a waste of time. He always whined to Loki afterwards how he could have spent the day sparring or going on another adventure with his friends.

Reaching the steps to the dais the mage bowed with a flourish, a mischievous grin present on his lips.

'I returned from the dwarven caves bearing new gifts for you All–Father.'

'Loki,' the monarch acknowledged him with a slight nod.

Always the show–man the trickster made an exaggerated gesture and stepped to the side presenting his companions.

'Behold the crafts master Sindri and master Brokkr prepared for you noble gods, and although their efforts were admirable, I'm afraid they will not manage to surpass the craftsmanship of the Ivaldi brothers.'

'It is not for you to decide boy,' Odin growled disregarding Loki's displeased frown, his one good eye was set on the Svartálfar. 'Show me.'

As instructed, the smiths began unpacking their crafts, starting with the great boar Gullinbursti with mane and bristles of gold.

The crowd thickened around them forming almost an unbreachable circular barrier; everyone wanted to see the show.

In the gentle light streaming from outside, the boar's mane glowed visibly and an awed murmur traveled through the crowd.

Brokkr smiled and bowed deeply to Freyr.

'A gift to you my lord. It can run through air and water better than any horse, and when stranded even in the furthest and darkest reaches of the Nine Realms its glow shall illuminate your path where other lights failed to reach.'

The noble Vanr nodded pleased with the offering, but Loki wasn't paying any attention to him, his gaze focused entirely on Odin. Yet the gallows god's features remained an impassive mask and the trickster was unable to gauge his mood.

Next it was Sindri's turn to present a gift to the assembled Aesir and Asiniur. When the cloth fell from the golden–platinum arm ring the crowd gasped once again with wonder. Loki's mood soured. The nobles were always easily pleased with shiny baubles, so their reaction wasn't really a surprise to the mage, although Odin's lack of _any_ reaction worried him.

The master smith climbed onto the dais and gifted the arm ring to the All–Father saying:

'Every ninth night eight new rings drip from Draupnir, each one of the same size and weight as the original.'

The mighty god regarded the intricate swirls adorning the polished surface of the ring with an appraising eye and nodded curtly to the dwarf.

Now came the time to reveal the third gift and while Loki's mood plummeted further, he was still confident enough that the too short handle of the otherwise great battle axe would be the dwarves downfall.

Once again the older sibling stepped forward, the bundle of cloth hiding the weapon clutched against his broad chest. He chanced a glance at Loki and smirked confidently then started unwrapping the hammer very slowly. The clamor surrounding them intensified reminding the trickster of a bee hive. The air around them felt hot to his skin and a light sheen of perspiration condensed on the mage's forehead. He huffed and pinched his nose briefly, tired of this farce. His head hurt from all the buzz the spectators made and at this point he just wanted to hide in his quiet rooms and check if Tony made it through the portal.

A gasp somewhere to Loki's left brought him back from his musings. The damned dwarf finally revealed the hammer to the crowd, rendering them speechless for a blissfully quiet moment. Then the cacophony doubled in force and Loki almost whined, but managed to stop himself just in time.

'This is our greatest creation!' Brokkr hollered lifting the hammer over his head. 'It is a gift to you, oh mighty Thor! You may smite as hard as you desire, whatsoever might be before you, and the hammer will not fail; moreover if you throw it at anything, it will never miss, and never fly so far as not to return to your hand!'

The thundered accepted the gift from the dwarf's hands and looked it over.

'It is indeed a mighty weapon!'

'It has been made from Uru my prince, the greatest metal in all the Nine Realms, and fashioned so it would fit into one hand for an easier swing,' the dwarf explained looking smug.

Loki snorted.

'Lies! You broke the handle having insufficient skill to work the metal.'

'A liar accusing me of lies? Tell me trickster, are you ready to lose your head?'

The mage snarled, fury nesting in his heart.

'The All–Father hasn't proclaimed you a winner yet dwarf, so don't crown yourself one.'

'There is no dou...'

'Enough!' Odin ordered them both. Loki's jaw clicked shut without protest, he knew that it was better not to anger the king.

'You have showed us your crafts and they are indeed magnificent. An excellent show of skill, I congratulate you Svartálfr, you and your brother surpass the Ivaldi's sons in craftsmanship.'

Loki couldn't believe his own ears, the All–Father just sentenced him to death without a second thought.

'My king, you must be jesting!' The trickster stuttered. 'Surely an unfinished hammer cannot be better than a spear that always pierces its target!'

Loki's voice sounded sharp, he had to think fast to come up with a contingency plan.

'Ah Loki!' Thor laughed. 'Your tricks have turned against you, how will you jest now without a head on your neck?'

 _How indeed?_ Loki thought panicked, and then his brain fully registered Thor's words.

'You ask the right questions brother. I am curious if the master craftsmen are as skillful with using their weapons as they are in forging them,' the mage beamed at the confused Svartálfar.

'What nonsense is your treacherous tongue spouting now?' Brokkr seethed.

'You see, my friend, the bet was about my head. So if you are able to separate it from my body without damaging my neck then it is yours, otherwise the bet is off.'

'That.. !' The older dwarf sputtered, 'that was never the part of the agreement you slimy serpent!'

Loki could almost see the fumes coming out of the dwarf's ears, his face was so red from anger. The mage just smiled innocently, glad that he managed to get out of this bet unharmed.

'All–Father! Your son is a trickster and a liar! He brings shame to the house of Odin and should be punished for his treachery!' Brokkr cried and was backed up by Sindri. A hushed murmur went through the crowd like a shiver over a body and Loki blanched noticing the king's displeased frown.

'I propose that we seal his lips so he won't be able to utter any more falsehoods. I have this thin cord, it will do just fine!' The Svartálfar both laughed as if it was a fine joke, and to Loki's dismay it carried over the crowd and some nobles joined in. He took a step back, but the ring of bodies around them wouldn't let him pass. With pleading eyes he looked to the All–Father, but saw no mercy, nor scorn just tiredness, and his heart fell.

'Father!' He begged, but the king was unyielding.

'You should take responsibility for your actions Loki,' the monarch sighed as he stood up from his high throne then waved a hand dismissively before Loki could add another word. 'Do as you will, but quickly.'

'No!' Loki screamed as a strong hand fisted in his long hair and yanked his head back immobilizing it. His feverish mind barely registered the laughs and amused shouts of the crowd surrounding them. Hands flailing, Loki tried to shove his oppressors away, but was slapped on the cheek. His vision swam and then refocused on the needle that hovered right in front of his face. When the sharp tip pierced his lip for the first time every man and woman gathered in the great hall could hear his scream.

~

A loud thud from the room next door woke Tony up. He somehow managed to fall asleep on Loki's grand and definitely too soft bed. The inventor startled awake disoriented and a first thought that came to his mind, when his brain registered that someone entered the prince's chambers, was to roll off the bed and hide. But when, after a few moments, the rooms became silent again Tony slowly peaked from between the covers spilling from the bed to the floor and saw nothing. He waited a bit longer to be sure if it wasn't a servant or someone other than Loki, then cautiously stood up and quietly shuffled towards the other room. A muffled sob reached his ears and Tony lifted a brow; it wasn't a sound he expected to hear. Finally reaching the door, he looked inside the other room and in the fading light of the afternoon he could discern a silhouette curled up against the massive double doors separating them from the corridor.

Stark took a step forward and Loki's head, because it was indeed him, shot up in alarm, his viridian eyes huge and scared, brimming with tears.

The frightened and vulnerable expression rooted Tony to the spot and he just stood there like a rabbit cornered by hunters, and stared at the god. The lower half of Loki's face was smeared with blood, the only clear trails were left by the tears spilling from his eyes. The god’s hands were also bloody and trembling where he rested them against his lips... And his lips… Tony's eyes widened in horror when he noticed that they were sewn shut by a black, disgusting cord, blood slowly oozing from the punctures.

'Fuck!' The inventor swore and rushed to the trickster. He sank to his knees probably bruising them and reached for Loki's face. The god flinched away, but with the doors behind his back he didn't have anywhere to run.

'Shhh, it's alright, let me see, I won't hurt you,' the Vanr soothed as his fingers slowly and oh so gently touched the mage's skin. Loki breathed in through the nose and shifted his gaze away from the smith. His long, dark eyelashes were wet with unshed tears and Tony gently dried them with his thumb. His left hand stroked the trickster cheekbone well away from the wounds. The inventor took a glance at the stitches and his blood boiled. What sick fucker could come up with such torture? But it didn't matter at the moment, the real question was if Tony would be able to remove them without causing the god additional pain?

'Hey Loki,' Stark angled the god's face up so he could look him in the eyes, 'I will try to cut the strings loose. It will probably hurt like Hel, but there is no other way, you understand?' When the As nodded Tony continued. 'Good, come closer to the window I'll need more light. Dummy bring me a wet cloth, we need to get rid of all that blood.'

Tony guided the trickster to a big, comfortable sofa near one of the ceiling–to–floor windows and sat him down. With the mage's muted guidance he found some strong, weirdly smelling alcohol and poured it over the knife Loki once lent him, then wiped it clean. In the meantime Dummy managed to find a cloth and he whirred in to hand it to his creator so Tony could start cleaning the god's face. It took him some time to wipe all the blood and he could see how Loki trembled every time he got near the stitching. Stark swore that if he could ever lay his hands on the fucker who did it, he would kill him.

'Okay Sparkles,' Tony blurted without thinking, 'I'll cut it as fast as possible, try not to move and if it hurts too much squeeze my knee,' he placed the god's hand on his leg and patted it reassuringly. He took a swing from the bottle he previously used to disinfect the blade and set out to work. It was a nightmare, the wounds started to bleed again almost instantly and Tony could see how much it hurt the god as he tried not to distance himself from the sharp blade and the pain. Stark gritted his teeth and continued even when his fingers got covered in blood. Finally the cord was cut so Loki could open his mouth and as soon as he did a strangled sob escaped them. The inventor massaged his shoulders leaving more bloody smears on his already ruined tunic and whispered soothing words. A part of the horror was behind them, now Tony had to remove the black thread sticking from the god's lips.

'Ready?'

'Yes,' Loki whispered hoarsely and braced himself for the new pain. He practically sat on Stark's lap, his hands twisted in the Vanr's shirt and waited for Tony to finish. When the deed was done after more swearing from the inventor that it was strictly necessary Loki promptly collapsed on top of the other man, wrung out of all strength.

~

He woke up in a warm cocoon, bundled in blankets and covered with his favorite black fur Thor brought him from one of his many adventures.

An arm was slung over his waist and Loki's head twisted back curiously, trying not to grimace when the pain flared on his abused lips. Behind him, sleeping peacefully, was Tony Stark. The god couldn't remember how they ended up in bed, he had to assume Stark carried him here. He stifled a yawn and turned in Tony's embrace to face him. The trickster never would have thought that this partnership from convenience would last so long. They both fulfilled the terms of their agreement and Stark could have just vanished without a word. But he stayed and once again helped Loki, for what the god was grateful, he could rarely count on someone to have his back.

Tony's breath tickled his collarbone and Loki smiled, untangling one hand from between the blankets and tracing a finger around Stark's new enchantment. He noticed that the smith had followed his instructions and now the Uru fragment that had been fashioned in a triangular shape to better distribute the Seiðr had been attached to the casing embodied into Tony's chest. The metal glowed faintly, casting blue reflections all around.

The smith mumbled something in his sleep and his eyes slowly opened to stare at Loki sleepily.

'Hi,' Stark yawned stretching his limbs. 'How are you?'

'Better, thank you.'

Tony's left hand settled back on the trickster's hip.

'Good, I was kind of freaking out when you fainted, but couldn't exactly ask anyone here for help.'

The inventor grimaced and his demeanor lost its playfulness. 'Who did that?' He asked, voice serious.

'The brothers... With Odin's approval,' Loki whispered, his eyes drifting shut at the pain the memory invoked.

'Your father let them do that?!' Tony chocked out stunned. He couldn't believe a father would let his own child get hurt like that... oh wait, he totally could believe it considering his own history.

Tony's hand drifted up and cupped the god's cheek careful not to aggravate the healing wounds; thankfully they had stopped bleeding a while ago.

Loki looked up and they locked gazes. The trickster's face was a calm mask, but his eyes were blazing.

'They will pay for it,' he said with conviction and Tony mouth twisted in a devious smirk.

'They already have, in part.'

'What did you do?'

'I might have dropped an oil lamp by accident... or maybe five. I don't think much will survive the conflagration, in the end I am an expert in keeping fire blazing.'

'Oh!' The mage's eyes widened and with a swift motion he straddled Tony's hips. The inventor was amazed how he managed that without tangling himself in all the blankets. Loki then leaned down attempting to kiss the Vanr, but hissed and threw his head back when their lips met.

'Careful,' Tony chuckled amused by the god's annoyed expression. He lifted himself up on the elbows and kissed the tip of Loki's nose.

'You are a force to be reckoned with my clever smith,' the As purred.

'Yes, well imagine what mayhem we could create together.'

'It is a glorious vision indeed, but first we have a more pressing matter to attend to.'

Loki ground his hips into Tony's and they both gasped. The inventor's calloused hands traveled over the plains of the trickster's back eliciting a shiver from the deity and settled on his ass squeezing lightly to encourage him to move again.

'Oh yes!'

~

For the next week no one at court saw Loki and rumors quickly spread claiming that he was too ashamed to show himself with his mouth stitched shut.

In truth he and Stark spent the time in bed only taking a break from time to time to eat or sleep and when they finally emerged, both in great moods, a new rumor was circulating the noble crowds: one about a tragic accident that had befallen the dwarven brothers. Supposedly an explosion so great it could be felt on the surface collapsed their workshop burying the siblings inside alive.

And if some whispered that it was the younger prince's doing, no one could prove anything and if Loki was asked about it, he only smiled mysteriously. They didn't have to know that Stark had taken a sudden interest in nitroglycerine…

~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: [Horns of Mischief](http://horns-of-mischief.tumblr.com)
> 
> I thrive on your lovely comments and reviews!


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